


Still strong enough

by ChocoNut



Series: Many ways to say I love you [44]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 8x4 missing scene, F/M, Fluff and Feels, Season 8, post TBTWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 15:14:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19275901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: Jaime and Brienne approach Sansa with their request to let Jaime stay back at Winterfell





	Still strong enough

“Lady Sansa,” Brienne called out, approaching her tentatively, a little apprehensive and a little shy at the thought of voicing what was on her mind.

“Lady Brienne.” Sansa looked up from the scroll she was perusing. “What can I do for you?” A faint smile crossed her lips when she looked over Brienne’s shoulder to take note of Jaime who had accompanied her.

Brienne hesitated, but she had to begin somewhere. The more she tried to put it off, the more she stood the risk of standing here forever, staring at the floor in embarrassment and unable to string a set of coherent words. “Ser Jaime would like to--” she licked her lips nervously, making a fervent effort not to blush furiously as she put forth her request.

“Yes?” Sansa’s eyes danced with understanding and a mischievous, teasing gleam to them she’d never seen before.

“He has decided not to travel to King’s Landing with the rest of the forces, my lady,” Brienne put it indirectly, hoping she wouldn’t be interrogated further. “He wishes to stay here at Winterfell for the time being, if you’ll consent to it.”

“And why might that be?” Sansa asked, her eyes darting towards Jaime as she spoke. “Is he reluctant to take up arms against his sister?”

“Gods, no!” Brienne cried out indignantly, jumping instantly to Jaime’s defense, her tone louder and harsher than she’d intended it to be.

“Then?” Sansa went on, unperturbed by her reaction, her expression as serene as it had earlier been. “He doesn’t belong up North, and I’m sure he doesn’t like it much here, so what is it that holds him back here?”

“Lady Brienne,” came Jaime’s softly firm voice from behind her. Brienne turned to him thinking he’d addressed her, but his eyes were locked on Sansa’s. “She’s the reason I’m here, my lady.” He stepped forward. “She’s the reason I came to Winterfell.”

 _I came to Winterfell because…_ Brienne recalled the words he had uttered that day, the unfinished sentence running through her head all along, her mind, every night, sleepless and troubled, trying to fathom what the possible conclusion to that might be.

“You never told me that day, Jaime,” she whispered.

“I wish I had.” Jaime’s eyes were now latched on to hers, shining with affection and answers to all the questions that had driven her restless since his arrival. “I also wish I’d told you when I had knighted you,” he murmured, reaching out for her hand.

“Not everything needs to be expressed in words, Jaime,” Brienne said, squeezing his hand gently, knowing he cared for her.

“Some things do.” He drew closer reducing the gap between them, “I could never have forgiven myself if either of us had died in the war before I could muster the courage to tell you how much I--” His voice broke and he was unable to go on.

“Jaime, go on… please!” Until now she’d thought words were unnecessary, but Jaime’s confession left her aching for more. She had to hear the rest of it, what he thought of her, how he felt about her, though she'd known it the moment he’d stepped into that training yard beside her that day…

_When he had asked her if she'd have him..._

_When he’d touched her with his sword, gracing her with the biggest honour a warrior could be blessed with..._

_When he’d protected her at the cost of his life, never leaving her side while surrounded by the dead..._

_When he’d placed his hand on hers during their drunken little moments..._

_When he’d looked into her eyes across the table like no man had ever looked at her, taking his eyes off her only to talk to his brother..._

_When he’d followed her in what was, perhaps, an intention to comfort her after Tyrion’s flippant proclamation about her virginity..._

_When he had shown up at her door, drunk and nervous, babbling absolute nonsense in a terrible attempt to seduce her..._

_When his lust and desire and passion for her, his impatience for their union were on naked display in his expressive eyes, eyes that could never lie, not to her, at least..._

_When he’d taken her to bed last night, stripping away her maidenhood in the most beautiful way any girl could dream of..._

“You love her!” Sansa exclaimed, unable to contain the excitement in her voice. It was an assertion, not a question or a doubt in her mind.

“I do,” admitted Jaime softly, having eyes only for Brienne, his gaze reflecting exactly what Sansa had said, “I love you, Brienne.”

“I knew you both cared for each other.” Sansa turned to Brienne with a smile. “I was under the impression that last night was just an effect of drunken revelry, but I never knew that it was this serious, that you were in love.”

It took tremendous effort for Brienne not to break down and succumb to the overwhelming surge of emotions.

“Say something, lady Brienne,” Sansa urged, “I’m sure such a romantic profession of love deserves an equally beautiful response.”

“I love you too, Jaime.” Brienne was glad to recover her voice again. “I have, for years, ever since Harrenhal.”

Jaime gathered her in his arms and placed a tender kiss on her mouth. “I came here for you, my lady, and I’m not leaving unless you kick me away.”

Before Brienne could stop herself, a giggle escaped her lips at the mental image of kicking his arse.

“Should I call for the arrangements, then?” asked Sansa, her eyes twinkling as she spoke directly to Jaime. “As I’m damn sure Lady Brienne has no intention of kicking you away.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be certain of that, my lady,” Jaime quipped, smiling at Brienne mischievously, “for she’d once harboured the deepest desire to knock me into the dust. And she actually did, in the only fight we’ve engaged in.”

Reminded of a conversation they’d had years ago, Brienne couldn’t resist responding. “And you were no less,” she retorted, “you claimed you could overpower me, fling me down--” she froze, blushing furiously as she recollected the rest of the proposition he’d made her.

“Go on, my lady,” Jaime teased, “what was it that came after that?”

“Nothing,” she mumbled.

“Tell me, Lady Brienne,” Sansa insisted, her attempt to hide a smile unsuccessful.

“I’m sure Brienne will tell you if you’re persistent enough,” Jaime told Sansa, “so do make sure she tells you.”

To her relief, Sansa gracefully dropped the subject. “Shall we plan for tomorrow evening, Ser Jaime?” Sansa asked him, “or perhaps this evening if you’re impatient?”

“What arrangements? Plan what?” Brienne was dying to know. “I’m sure all he needs is his room--”

“Your wedding preparations, my lady,” Sansa revealed, her smile widening. “Was that not what you were referring to, Ser Jaime?”

“It definitely was,” Jaime agreed, “and I’d be grateful to you for that, my lady.”

“Congratulations,” said Sansa, beaming at the pair, “I hope you’ll like a Northern wedding, Lady Brienne.”

“I--” Stunned beyond measure, Brienne opened and closed her mouth like a fish, gaping alternately at the two people by her side.

“Why don’t you take the day off, my lady?” Sansa offered, “I’m sure you both have a lot to talk about--” she paused for effect “--or other more important things to do.”

“There's no need for that, my lady--” Brienne tried to protest, warmth flooding her cheeks again.

“I’m sure I can manage without you for a day.” With that, Sansa left, leaving her alone with Jaime.

“You just made arrangements for our wedding?” Brienne hissed, the moment Sansa was out of earshot. “And when were you planning to ask me?”

“Now,” whispered Jaime, going down on his knee.

Astounded for moment when she realized that he was serious about it, Brienne was rendered speechless.

“Say something, my lady,” he said, taking her hand, “or you could just kiss me in response, or overpower me, fling me down and tear off my--”

“Shut up!” she stopped him, giggling.

Jaime rose to his feet. “You haven’t answered my question yet, Brienne,” he said, capturing her in his gaze.

Brienne smiled coyly. “I think you already know my answer.”

“I’d still like to hear it from you.”

“Yes… a thousand times yes.” She flung her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth to his. “And the next time,” she warned, “make sure you think twice before spilling out our private moments to Sansa or anyone else.”

"Coming to our private moments," he said, his eyes lighting up as he pulled her closer, “I think it’s time I honour the promise I made you years ago.”

“What promise?”

“To overpower you, fling you down and tear off your clothes,” he breathed into her lips, filling her with sensations she could associate only with him.

Heat pooling at the pit of her belly, she felt a pleasurable tingle all through her body. “A pretty tall claim that was. Are you certain you can manage it, ser? Don’t you think you’re over-ambitious? You were quite incapable of taking your own clothes off last night, remember?”

“Oh, don’t underestimate me, wench, I was drunk last night. Try me when I’m sober.” He gave her a suggestive wink. “Why don’t we go back to your chambers right now so that I can show you?”

“I don’t think you’ll be able to--”

He claimed her lips in exactly the same way he’d done last night, and she buckled under the pressure of his mouth against hers, her knees giving way just like their first time. He was there for her, his arm around her waist steadying her to her feet, and his hand on her face, his fingers working their magic on her neck and cheek, while his tongue and lips did unmentionable things to her mouth. Sliding his hand down her arm and to her waist, he reached under her shirt, finding her warm skin and caressing it. He kissed her with abandon, delving deeper and deeper, uncaring that someone might walk in on their dance of lust. And she went along, giving in to him, melting under him, wishing she could stay with him all day and all night for every single day of her life.

“I’m glad you didn’t do this when Sansa was around,” she gasped, panting, when he’d decided to take pity on her and release her.

“I hope that was good enough to convince you,” he growled, his voice thick with want, “or do you need further proof?”

“Proof of what?” she asked, still dizzy from his kiss.

“That I’m still strong enough,” he claimed, the gleam of desperate desire never leaving his eyes.

“Why don’t you first take me to bed, Ser Jaime?” she invited lustily, draping her arms around his neck. “And then we shall see how strong you are…”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm guilty of over-using the "I'm strong enough" line, but I don't regret it one bit :)  
> Thank you for reading and do let me know in your comments if you liked it.


End file.
